


The Dragon's Treasure

by Zealous



Series: The Dragon's Ire [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Altruism, Angry Smaug, Biting, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so not proud of this., Kidnapping, Martyrdom, Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Submissive Reader, Why Did I Write This?, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zealous/pseuds/Zealous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A half-elven girl is born to a commoner of Dale. As an adult, she bares witness to the night of the dragon's attack. After helping to lead a few people to a safe place to hide, she and her companions go searching for any signs of survivors and find a more than they were bargaining for, as the Dragon returns. An altruistic young creature, bordering on the edge of irrationally self-martyring, our heroine offers herself as  to the dragon in exchange for him sparing the lives a few survivors. </p><p>First attempt at showing any of my fanfiction the light of day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

It is difficult to be a half breed in any culture. No matter how much you identify with one side of your heritage, there will always be things from the other that set you apart. No home would feel entirely welcoming. No land would seem entirely our own. You would drift from place to place until you found it... But many of your kind never did. This was your trial in life, your burden to bare. While it was not the heaviest to carry, it was enough to inform much of who you became in life. With an elven father and a human mother, you were born a half elf. 

Your father sang in the elven king’s hall, your mother was a gardener in dale with a love of all things in nature. The two of them met when father was traveling. He wooed your mother with songs and stories, shared a bed for one night together… and they parted ways. But he was no enigmatic stranger in the night, to bring you into the world and never be heard from again. Your father knew of your existence and though he could hardly leave his home in the Mirkwood anymore, he made it his mission to be part of your life. He wrote letters to you and your mother regularly, though he never visited. He sent you pieces of jewelry, and hand written poems and songs. He sent you a lute when you were eleven along with detailed hand written instructions on how to begin learning to play it, he told your mother in a letter he began working on from the moment he found out he was to be a father. He did the same thing a year later with a harp.

You lived with her most of your life in the Dale with your mother… You would come to work with her and practice playing the lute and singing to her until you were old enough to work yourself. When you had finally reached that age, you got a job in the local pub. You served drinks, sang songs, helped in the kitchen. Dale was prosperous, but never felt entirely like home. Your aging was bizarre to the humans around you, having reached your early twenties before your appearance seemed to freeze. You did not age a single day past your prime. Hair never greying, skin never wrinkling. You spent decades frozen, watching the people around you aging, withering like flowers in early winter. Many of the pressures of mortal life were so far removed from yours. With no urge to settle down or marry, you were content to live relaxed and free. Enjoying books and long walks, gardening and music.

It wasn’t until your mother was on her death bed, however, that you realized how far apart from the people of Dale you really were. She had lived into her eighties… a marvelous feat for any human in those days. By the time she was sixty she was almost completely unrecognizable from the woman who raised you. Now here she was, in her last days, and suddenly it became clear to you how slowly time was passing for you. You were sixty years old, after all, but your age never slowed you down or even occured to you until you watched your mother fading out of her twilight years. You had outlived many of your friends and acquaintances. All the shop keeps from your youth had been replaced by their children, or their children’s children and it was only now that it occurred to you. You were going to outlive everyone you knew in Dale.

You sent a letter to your father, asking for a place to stay.

Before your mother finally passed, he came for you. He bore music on the wind, poems in his hands, and gifts of wine and jewels. This was the first time you met him, but you forced yourself not to impose yourself. You held off asking him all the questions that had burned in your mind since childhood about the Mirkwood. The reason? He wanted to spend time with your mother, to speak with her and comfort her in what little time remained. He stayed with her, holding her hand, singing her songs, reading her poetry he had written years ago just for her. He fed her her last meal and you two held her hands as she faded from this world into the next. Her life’s journey was ended. Her next was just beginning, and so was yours. The day after mother was buried, you left Dale for the Mirkwood and the elven king’s hall.

Life at your father’s side was like nothing you could have imagined. You understood why your mother had fallen for him, as he was still in his prime even now, roughly 61 years after he had first met her, and from what you knew of elves he would still be like this in 500 years. Time was so strange to your father’s people. Most elves at your age (sixty) were still small children. Yet here you were, looking like an adult. Your sense of time was even more bizarre to the elves than it was to the men of Dale. 

Nothing had an ending to them, it seemed. A century was a mere blink in their eyes. For you, things simply moved slowly. It was hard to describe… You felt both an old crone and a hapless child at the same time around your father’s people, and terribly uncultured to boot. You arrived in a muddy dress of human design in your favorite color that made you look like a vagabond compared to the elegant clothing of the elves around you. You hardly spoke the elven tongue and could not read their language. You played instruments beautifully, but your skills still paled in comparison to your father.

Yet somehow it hardly mattered. The halls of the king were beautiful, the company was merry, and the woods felt more like home than Dale ever had. While you still had fond memories of where you once dwelt, this was your home now. And for another 40 years, you would not leave it. You would live here, love here, learn the language, learn to write, and love to live.

Forty years later, a lesser noble of King Thranduil’s court, by the name of Galidir, had business in the town of Dale and bade you join him on his journey. You would be paid and would receive a chance to return to Dale and see what had become of your old home. You would remain there for five days, then return home. This would also give you a chance to ‘visit’ your mother. Something that your relocation to the mirkwood would not allow… With supplies and personal belongings (such as instruments,) packed,you were off, certain this would be a lovely journey. 

Oh if only you knew how wrong you would be before setting out...


	2. A Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the reader enjoys her time home, musing upon the state of the town that was once her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short... but I didn't feel it flowed terribly well with what was to come, so I decided to post this on it's own.

Everything had been fine when you arrived. The town was peaceful. Quiet. You managed to walk around the village as if you were any other elf of the mirkwood who’d never been to town before. Of course no one would recognize you after all these years, though side glances from strangers were constantly coming your way. These ranged from polite curiosity to looks of heavy, distasteful scrutiny, to glances of high admiration. Of course, you had forgotten man’s weakness for the beauty of elves in the time you had been gone. Even if you were not of pure elven blood, you had experienced this often when you were a ‘young’ woman. Admittedly, you found it a nice change of pace to be back in the eyes of man, as in the hall of elves you always felt you were somewhat… plain, by elven standards. 

Gaildir also seemed to be receiving a lot attention, for as you traveled through town together, a small gaggle of young women always seemed to be just a few yards behind you. They giggled each time he looked their way, and always seemed to be stealing glances at him. While they would not follow you directly from building to building, they would wait outside for however long you were browsing, pretending to be doing something in the meantime. Their charades would be abandoned, however, the moment that Gaildir stepped out the door.

He seemed to enjoy the attention. He made it a point to wave hello to them and ask them very politely for directions about town constantly. You found this amusing, because for the most part you could still guide him from place to place in town… but you supposed letting him enjoy such attention could not hurt. 

You rented a room in the inn you worked in all those years ago. Gaildir, unfortunately, was less keen on staying there, but it was a decent enough arrangement considering your budget and how long you intended to stay. It had not changed too much, though many pieces of the building looked to be renovated in the last two or so years. Floor boards squeaked less than you remembered, drafts were better kept out. 

In the night you asked the inn-keeper if she minded you practicing your harp and performing for a crowd and merrily. She had replied that there was no gift she would refuse to her inn. Especially not music which might draw in more patrons for the evening. 

You took a seat near the fire and sang. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Gaildir at a table surrounded by local women and momentarily mused on if that was what it was like when your father had come to this town years ago. Had he been so popular?

You leaned back and relaxed. You closed your eyes and played. You sang every soothing song you knew, and played till your fingers were becoming sore.You sang of love and losses, travel and lands far beyond… Little did you know but you were being watched even the Lord of Dale, Girion himself. He made a mental note to speak to get to know you better the next day.

Unfortunately, he would never tell you that he was so entertained by your songs. The two of you would never meet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review. Some feedback would do me a world of good.


	3. Laid Low the Town and Houses Frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the real action finally begins. The dragon attacks, the town is destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, to those who had to wade through the chapters that came before. Hopefully things will get more entertaining from here on out. Thus far this is reading a lot like a 'creative writing' piece that stole the town of Dale for a location.

You went to bed that night feeling happy but exhausted. It was going to be a lovely little vacation, you thought to yourself. Tomorrow morning you would go visit mother and bring her a gift of her favorite flowers, along with a song father had written her and asked you to perform for in his stead. Gaildir would negotiate with the merchants he had come here to meet, and soon you would be back home. Your plans could not have possibly been more lovely. Fate, unfortunately, rarely takes your plans into account when it is making it’s own. 

The bells were ringing in the dale,  
And men looked up with faces pale,  
The Dragon’s ire, more fierce than fire,  
Laid low their towns and houses frail….

Those would be all the lyrics of the song of the lonely mountain that would be afforded your old home. Yet those who would hear those words sung would never come close to understanding even half of the true horror of that night. 

From the sky it would descend like a shooting star, and cover the land with fire. Its roar would shake the world around you like an earthquake, and the whip of its wings would be as a hurricane. Few would survive… Few would escape.

You first began to stir from sleep as the sound of distant roaring filled your ears. A dull throbbing was beginning to grow in your head as you lay in bed. You groaned to yourself, wondering if this would persist all night. You rolled over in bed and looked out your window. You gazed at the moon for a moment when you heard it yet again. That roaring sound… You leaned over to your bedside table and lit a candle. You only just stood and slipped a shawl around your (adj) frame to keep out the cold before you approached your window to try and find the source of that awful racket, when a shadow passed. It darkened the world outside and seemed so piercing and black that it even extinguished the light of the candle in your hand as well.

“What in the name of Elb--AH!” you had begun to ask yourself, when the window suddenly tore open with a gale-force wind. Your candle went out, and you clutched the shawl as tightly as you could with your free hand as the wind whipped the fabric around you. You could tell that somewhere behind you your belongings were being tossed about the room, due to the wind.

You turned around to see the disheveled mess the sudden blast of air had made of your room, blankets strewn across the floor along with various items from your pack. Your lute and harp lay in a heap. Quickly you turned on your heel, rushed over and retrieved them. Whatever was going on, it couldn’t be good, and like hell would you leave these to be damaged. You slipped the strap of your lute over your back, and your hands were just closing around t-brace of your harp when another shadow flooded your room, followed swiftly by the another gust of wind. 

With your prized belongings in hand you turned on your heel and ran to the window, determined to see what was doing this. You looked right, nothing. Then left, nothing. Then down, as a disturbing orange glow caught your eyes. Fire…

It crept along the ground like a menacing cat, stalking it’s prey. Then up walls and down alley ways. Another, unmistakable roar, and you looked up, amongst the growing pillars of black smoke, you saw it. The cause. The creature that wrought desolation in its wake. Though you could hardly believe your eyes.

“DRAGON!” the word tore from your lungs and rang out all over the town. This was real. This couldn’t be real, but it was real. It was real and it was soaring over you like a bird of prey. You had to do something.

Suddenly, the town seemed to start moving all at once. While the city guard mobilized, the lord of Dale stood atop a tower, firing arrows at the beast in an attempt to kill it which he knew would be wasted effort. Women and children ran to the edge of the lake searching for safety. Civilian men sprinted hither and thither, some calling for weapons, some calling for water to douse the flames.

There was movement in the hallway. You turned on your heel and sprinted to your door. Ripping it open, you saw Gaildir and a human woman come stumbling from his room. 

“(Name!)” he said, sounding panicked, “(Name!) For goodness sake, is it true? Is it really a dragon?”

“I would not joke about such a thing.” you replied, gravely, “We have to get out of here.”

The woman at Gaildir’s side, who you now recognized as the current bar-maid, began to cry. 

“But… But w-where could we go?” she begged. “We’ll be burned alive or eaten before we make it to safety!”

You closed your eyes and thought hard for a moment. Where could you go? You knew the town, there had to be somewhere. Then it hit you. 

“Is the cellar still only used to house mead and fruits?” you asked the maid. 

She nodded, tearfully. 

“By the stars,” you sighed before adding, “And you have the key?”

She nodded yet again, soft sobs seeming to be blocking her ability to speak. Suddenly your heart felt much less heavy. You looked to Gaildir. “We have to go. Grab her. I’ll try to find anyone left in the inn. We’ll hide safely in there.”

Gaildir nodded before wrapping an arm around his frightened female companion, and pulling her along with him. The two of them went off to the cellar so the maid could open the door as you ran through the rest of the inn looking for stragglers. In the end you were followed by inn-keeper, who must have been a grand daughter of the man who owned the bar when you worked there, her tiny daughter, who held their cat and was followed by their dog, an old man who had fallen asleep at the bar, two young men who you recognized as Gaildir’s business contacts, and a middle-aged dwarvish woman. You lead them all to the cellar doors as quickly as you could, then slammed on them until Gaildir and the bar-maid opened them. Ushering everyone inside, you were the last to enter your hiding place and last to gaze upon the inferno that was overtaking your city. Inside, it was cramped, dark and terrifying… but nothing compared to outside. 

Buildings collapsed, innocents screamed, and the night sky was lit by the burning city. Never before in history had a dragon come to this region of the world. Now here one was, wreaking havoc and destruction everywhere it turned. The small girl, daughter of the inn-keep cried in her mother’s arms. The old man clutched the neck of the last bottle he’d been drinking form. Gaildir held tightly to the bar-maid, who cried softly into his chest. The two animals kept between you and the dwarf for comfort, and Gaildir’s business partners sat huddled in the corner, not speaking to you or each other, for a long tim. You prayed, silently, that there would be survivors, or that the wyrm would be slain, though you doubted anyone would hear such a prayer…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, I'm terribly worried this will be awful.


	4. A Knight and a Dragon

The next morning, the excitement had subsided. As you pushed open the doors, There was no longer screaming, and the smouldering buildings were nothing more than ashes and rubble now. Many bodies lined the streets, some charred beyond recognition, some missing… pieces. As if the dragon had decided it did not like the taste of them after a few bites and then discarded them. 

“Look for survivors.” you instructed those who followed you. “We can’t be the only ones.”

The two young men, Gaildir and the dwarf were your companions for now, allowing the inn-keep, the bar-maid, the little girl and the old man to stay behind in safety. You fanned out in different directions to maximise your efforts. Not a sound of breath, nor a whisper of life was heard. Not a soul was spotted. A foul smell of fire and death permeated the air. You covered your nose as you walked… Nothing. Nothing at all.

You followed the path towards the place you had intended to visit that day. The cemetery. You longed to visit your mother there, and wonder what she would say to comfort you if she were alive.

You closed the eyes of a few corpses along your way… Just the ones that felt as if they were staring at you. You clutched tightly to the strap of the lute that still hung from your back. 

You arrived, walked into the cemetery and observed how many tombstones were smashed beyond recognition now… Luckily, mother’s remained intact. 

Tears streamed from your eyes. You walked straight to the stone and threw your arms around it. 

“Naneth… Mother… Gods how I wish I could speak to you. This place… our town… our home is in ruins. Elen nor… This place…” 

Your tears flowed freely now, and for a few minutes that was all you would do… Finally you sat back and stared at the stone slab with your mother’s name etched on to it. 

“I… I was going to bring you flowers, you know.” you said to it. “But… something got in the way of that. I’ve been living with a-ada... f-father… for many years now. He sends his love. He a-also sent me here with a song, f-for you.”

You slipped your lute around your shoulder and laid it in a playing position on your lap. “Would you like to hear it?”

You waited a moment, picturing your mother sitting across from you, nodding as she leaned comfortably against her tomb stone as she had done against trees when she was live. You smiled, still shaking and crying. You began to pluck the strings of your instrument, when you heard it. A sound that made your stomach drop like it were suddenly filled with lead. A deep, guttural roaring, that echoed in the emptiness around you.

By the stars, no. NO! It could not be back,not yet. “Mother!” You sobbed, and threw yourself against the tombstone yet again, hiding beneath its shadow as a gust of wind went past. You clung to the stone once more, eyes sealed tightly, unwilling to open them to watch doom passing over you. It seemed to be circling round and round again, looking for something. Seconds… Survivors. Immediately your mind came to the people who had followed you out. The Dwarf, the two young men… Gaildir… Oh star kindler, please, please let them hide safely until the beast leaves… Please…

The ground shook as the dragon landed like a meteor. A scream. A woman’s voice. Too deep to be Gaildir’s lady friend.. Too mature to be the bar-keeps daughter. The dwarodam, or dwarvish woman who had escaped with you… When the dragon had left the burning city last night, she had whispered there was only one place it could be going. Erebor, the great dwarven city… Largest collection of gold and wealth for miles… Plenty of fresh dwarves to devour…

Well, you thought, it had just devoured one more… And your little band of survivors grew just that much smaller.

Another scream. One of the men, though you couldn’t tell who. Please, not Gaildir… Another scream. You had to check these out. you had to move… You had to.

You grabbed your harp with your non-dominant hand and re-strapped your lute with the other before looking over your shoulder and whisper, “I’ll try to come to… To see you again as soon as I can… Mother…” 

You followed the great rumbling sound the beast made as quickly as possible. Frantically, you travelled along side streets and used the ruins of buildings as cover to try and find the dragon without it finding you. You were surprised how hard it was proving to be so far, as you remembered the creature being massive… Finally you rounded the right corner, and found it.

“BACK AWAY!” Shouted a gruff male voice you didn’t recognize. “You shall not harm her while I still draw breath!” You peeked around a corner to find a guardsman, barely standing in signed, blackened and battered armor, using a spear to support himself. Keeping himself between the dragon and a very little girl who cowered in fear… The inn-keeper’s daughter. Now you saw her, hiding behind this man for protection... they looked so much alike. He must have been her father. The dragon made a noise that reminded you of a scoff as it stepped forward. With a casual wave of it’s talon, the guardsman was on his back. The beast moved closer, placing one of it’s heavy, taloned claws on the guard’s chest. You could hear his armor creeking… bending… As the little girl cowered, and cried so loudly even you could hear it, and you were observing all this from roughly 70 feet away. She seemed paralyzed to the spot with fear. The dragon moved it’s head down, bringing it’s long, scaled neck down lower and lower and lower, until its head hovered just above the guard… Its jaws were opening with a wicked delight. 

Gods, no, NO! Not like this. You couldn’t bare to see it end like this. There had to be another way! You didn’t have the time to screw up your courage. You didn’t have time to think. Acting on it’s your body suddenly sprang into action. You ran full tilt from behind some rubble, towards the crimson, scaled, gigantic beast and his captive prey. Your words tore from your throat unbidden by any sense you might have left in you.

“WAAAAAAAAIT!” you screamed. “Please! PLEASE STOP!” 

The dragon didn’t startle. In fact it hardly moved from it’s place at all. It slowly angled it’s head to look over it’s scaled, winged back at you. One eye… just one, stared at you now. Gigantic, and a similar orange to the fire that had engulfed the city the previous night. It’s pupils dialated as it looked at you now. A great black slit that bore into your soul and left you feeling paralyzed. You stopped running. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t even sure it understood you, and for all you knew you were digging the graves of not only you but everyone around you. This was desperation at its finest. What were you going to do now you had its attention? Your mind raced. WIth adrenaline pumping, a long night of hiding in cramped, horrible conditions and the scent of burning death all around you, your mind was foggy. Nothing clever came to you. No way to trick the beast or fast talk your way out. No way to save the guard or the child and yourself. But you would be damned if you did not try something.

Then it hit you. It wasn’t a good idea, but it was all that you had. All you could manage… You knees shook. Your eyes watered. Your voice cracked. If you were really going to go through with this, it was now or never.

“Please… Take me instead.” you panted out, though your voice hardly sounded like your own. The monster turned it’s head more towards you.

“You were here for hours last night, weren’t you? And then you left… For… Erebor… I don’t know if you can understand me… but if you think you’ve had your fill of the men of dale and... dwarves, then i might exchange my life… for theirs.”

It is very unwise to attempt to barter with a dragon. As clever as devils, you never know what you are actually getting yourself into until it is far too late. They sewed seeds of doubt into your heart with their words, and you knew this. Though this one had yet to speak, and you knew it was listening intently.

As you spoke, you removed your lute from your shoulder. You held it loosely by the strap now, and dragged it along the ground as you stumbled closer. The dragon looked curious… Dangerously so. It must have understood, for a malevolent looking… expression, (for you were not sure you could call it a smile,) made it’s way to the beast’s face. Finally, it removed it’s weight from the guardsman and looked down at you expectantly. You held up a hand and commanded, “Wait. Just one more moment…“

The dragon’s posture changed to something that reminded you of an agitated dog as it tilted it’s head sideways and squinted down at you, it’s muzzle curling up in a sneer. Curse your boldness.

”You can enjoy the sweet taste of elf without my protest once I know he is alright…”

Then you ran. Towards the dragon, then past it. Your knees felt weak as it seemed to watch every step you took to the guard’s side. You kneeled, praying you had not just made this offer too late to save a man who had already died.

 

“Sir? Sir? Please, wake up, sir. Don’t-don’t be dead, please… Don’t be dead, brave knight… Your little girl needs you.” you whispered to him. “I give myself to this beast for you, because your girl needs you… Open your eyes.”

“Mmm--what? Who are yo--” he begins to mutter, but you cut him off. 

“Shh, please, not now. I don’t have much time, and I will not risk the dragon’s ire at being delayed. Listen, carefully… There are survivors other than us. Your wife is among them. Look for them by her inn… Find an elf named Gaildir.” The last sentence came out as a strangled whisper. “Gaildir and you together… if your injuries are not too severe, the two of you can probably lead everyone else who remains safely away from these ruins… I am buying you time. Please… go. Your daughter know who to look for.”

The guard’s eyes had grown more alert as you spoke… He nodded weakly to you. “You… I...I shall not forget this, d-dear lady…” he coughed. 

“See that you don’t.” you replied, a smile coming on to your face despite the fact that tears streamed from your eyes once more. You placed your harp and lute down next to him before adding, “And if you could… take these. Sell the harp if you get out of here and need to make a new start elsewhere, but give the lute to Gaildir. Tell him… Tell him (name) asked you to return this to her ada… please.”

Again, he nodded weakly, and attempted to lean up, whispering, “Thank you.”

You glanced at the little girl, still cowering a few feet away, and forced yourself to give her a re-assuring smile. You nodded at her and gave her a little wave before standing to face the ever more impatient looking dragon.

“Now… Shall we?” you asked it. 

Grinning a dangerous, toothy grin, it suddenly moved very quickly towards you. Expecting it to swallow you on the spot, you closed your eyes and braced yourself. You were surprised when you felt something gently grabbing you by the back of the dress before suddenly lifting you up at what felt like a hundred million miles an hour. You opened your eyes for one split second and thought you were already dead, with your soul floating into the sky as you watched the ground and your body speed away. The truth of the matter is that the dragon had taken you gingerly in it’s teeth, apparently to take you home to enjoy you. You closed your eyes again, and clenched your body up, terrified. 

The end was near… You could feel it. The sacrifice of a maiden was a customary part of epic poems and tales… Unfortunately for you there was no goodly knight on his way to your rescue. The only goodly knight was probably miles behind you now, and you had just saved him.


	5. In the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the heroine hangs in the jaws of the beast as they soar above the world, and reflects.  
> ((Please, READ THE OPENING NOTES, THEY ARE VERY IMPORTANT THIS TIME))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a section of this work that requires music for the full effect. I'm a loser like that, I couldn't find a way to explain the emotional weight of the scene without it and I'm very sorry for that. 
> 
> If you'll indulge me; the song described in this writing is a song known as the Hymn to Elbereth Gilthoniel III. When the writing calls for it, please open a new tab, and allow this link to play the song for you as you read:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irRxzfsfWNU
> 
> Yes, there is usually an advertisement played first because it's youtube, yes this is a stupid handy cap to work with. (I mean, this is fanfiction, not a fan film!) But I promise with all my heart this is worth it. The melody is haunting and lovely and Christopher Lee had a big hand in writing it and it's awesome and... Look, just listen to it, okay? Please?

As you hung in the jaw of a great and terrible beast, your mind seemed to shut off for a time. For a while you couldn’t think about your situation beyond the immediate sensations. Cold air, shaking hands, pounding in your chest, the arm-pit of your dress cutting into you as it was all that kept you from falling there… and most of all your toes always seeming to be searching for the ground.

You forced one eye open and peered downward. This would be your one chance to see the world from the eyes of a dragon, you supposed you should not waste it. But for a moment the sight was too much, and you felt you would faint. The world seemed miles below you now. Trees were like blades of grass and the great lake below you might as well have been a puddle made by a few minutes of rain. If that beast, that awful draconian monster that was carrying you parted his teeth for just a second you would spend hours falling before you met your end.  
You started relaxing your body as best you could… No use in dying tense, right? Oh who were you kidding? You were already starting to wonder if there were any sense in dying now at all. Maybe you should have let the dragon take the guard and saved the daughter instead. Gods, there were probably a thousand things you could have done instead. Damned fool that you were…

Still, you tried to relax. It would all be over soon, you supposed… and somehow that was a small comfort.

But part of your mind nagged at you to think about this more. Should you not be more conflicted? Anguished?! Life was good in the Mirkwood, even if you were the local oddball due to your heritage. People liked your music, hell, people liked you and you liked people! You weren’t miserably toiling your life away with a minor human profession! You were an entertainer, you were living happily with father, you had just visited your hometown… Should you not feel some sort of… pain? Regret? Should you not think of how you’re too young? There was so much more to do in life, so how could you be so… ready wasn’t the word… ACCEPTING of this? You were still VERY young for your elven half…

The human part of you spoke up in your mind, as if mother was imparting wisdom upon you. What fear should someone about to die have? Everything dies. You even had the benefit of knowing exactly when it was coming. You chose this end. If you were not feeling grief over your own life ending, then you should count it as a blessing. Just… prepare for your train of thought to stop… It would all be over soon. Maybe you would panic at the very end. In fact, it was most likely you were just calm now because you were going to break down very soon… so you should use this time to allow yourself to be calm and at peace before the end.

You started to take in sensations around you more favorably. You were cold, yes, but the whipping wind around you was beginning to feel more pleasant now. You felt almost as if you were the one in flight, instead of just being dragged along for the ride. Your (h/c), (h/l) hair was blown back and your skirts whipped about your knees furiously.

Your feet stopped feeling like they were searching for the ground. Your heart-rate slowed, replacing the pounding in your ears with the sound of the wind. And now that you were calming down, you began to feel weightless.You closed your eyes again and began humming an elvish hymn father taught you.

((Open a separate tab, using the link in the notes NOW. Listen and enjoy.))

You came to the first few lines, content to mouth out the lyrics and hum the melody as your hands slowly moved as if they were still clutching your lute. As you pantomimed playing music to yourself, your mind filled with the song as if you were listening to a chorus sing. A chorus you heard and you could not ignore because at that moment you felt as if you were listening to the voices of all your ancestors. You opened your eyes and somehow, for a moment you could see it. A large ensemble of elves, all glowing like stars. All singing and playing instruments together in such a way that should shake the world, but instead it was soft and soothing and nothing like you’d ever experienced.

And then the sight was gone… But in your head the music continued to play. Voices like you had never heard, singing a song you had heard a thousand times before, but in a chorus you could not ignore.

“Join in, and lend your voice to them. There’s no harm in it.” said a voice in your head. Your capturer may mind, but he won’t have to deal with it for long. Dinner and a show probably did not mean much to him… but it didn’t matter. This was for you.

You opened your mouth, took a deep breath, closed your eyes again and began to sing along. As the song traveled through you like the grace of the gods it was meant to be in tribute to, you were totally at peace. Your mind and heart were consumed with calm.

In a perfect world, your story would have ended there. Where you simply escaped inwardly with nothing but a song and some faith to comfort you, and spirit your mind and heart away. You would be gone from the world… But this was not a perfect world

Instead, as you began to sing the final notes, the dragon let out a deep, guttural, devious thrumming sound, and your stomach dropped. Gravity was suddenly taking a terrible hold on your entire body, in fact. There was lead in your stomach now, and you felt you had been dropped.

You opened your eyes and suddenly realized you were heading down very quickly, and you were being aimed directly at the mountain. The dragon was finally making its descent towards its destination. Its new home. The wind now stinging your eyes, you cringed and struggled to keep focus on the world below you.

What little you saw and your mind was able to process was horrifying. Groups of charred or broken and bloody bodies, (not all of whom were dwarven,) scorch marks all along the ground, the remains of a few trees that had probably burned all night but still glowed like dying embers now, something that looked like a toppled statue.

Then the doors. Carved into the mountain side. The tremendous doors to the kingdom beneath the mountain, easily taller than a story and a half tall, and appearing to be made of pure stone. Now, it was as if you were a meteorite hurtling straight for them. Was the dragon just going to use you as a tiny cushion for his face as he used his jaw to battering-ram his way inside? Then, like a nightmare made real, it spoke. And when it spoke, it was if the very words were raking against your skin like some kind of torture.

“ _ **And now... we arrive.**_ ”

 

And upon hearing those words, you let out a scream that would startle a banshee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of a nightmare. I didn't want to just gloss over it and be like, "And then they reached their destination," because a scene where a character is facing their immanent demise is not a scene to take lightly even if the character themself is doing so. I also did not want to keep teasing you with the reader/smaug tag when all smaug appears to be doing is acting as a very dramatic and intelligent lion or bear or wolf or something dragging away a helpless maiden without contributing any thoughts to the plot... But in the end I had to put off really characterizing our favorite lizard for one more chapter. Teeny bit of dialogue at the end though, and that was nice right? Kinda picture it said with the same kind of delivery as the, "I am Fire, I am DEATH," line at the end of DoS, right?
> 
> Please forgive me dear reader. I promise I'll kick it into high gear asap. Unfortunately I could not sleep last night and it is now 6:14 in the morning.... So this will not be my most polished work in terms of editing. Hopefully the next chapter is a significant enough improvement that I earn your forgiveness.
> 
> Comments mean the world to me, so please leave your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! One can't begin to improve themselves without any kind of feed-back, after all. 
> 
> Right off the bat I'm going to admit that I have basically taken all versions of the Cannon and broken them over my knee. I also unfortunately became overly invested in writing the reader's back-story. "Why a half-elf?" you may wonder. Mostly because dwarf girl was too obvious, but partly because I have a weakness for elves. From there the idea kind of spiraled out of control into what you see before you.
> 
> This was a work that was originally meant to be churned out to help me deal with a couple kinks and ended up spawning an idea for this big epic adventure. I decided to divide the work up a bit, making sure that the adventurous stuff is rated appropriately for now. Unfortunately it comes at a slow burn as a result, but I promise to get to the juicy bits asap... In another section of the work. This is going to end up going deeper, involving bits of lore and mythos from many different adaptations of 'The Hobbit,' from the book to several films and more.
> 
> I hope I don't disappoint and that my writing wasn't too confusing or directionless.


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